


The Next Train

by Agogobell28



Category: Orphan Black
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Channel Tunnel, F/F, Sarah stays in the UK, Trains, Trans Character, Translation, trans Delphine Cormier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 05:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agogobell28/pseuds/Agogobell28
Summary: The title and the lyrics which divide the sections of text are from the song "Prochain Train" by Geneviève Toupin.I have no idea at all how the Channel Tunnel works, so forgive me if I've made any mistakes.This fic is a translation of a fic I initially wrote in French, entitled "Prochain Train".





	The Next Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EJwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJwrites/gifts).
  * A translation of [Prochain Train](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634609) by [Agogobell28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agogobell28/pseuds/Agogobell28). 



> The title and the lyrics which divide the sections of text are from the song "Prochain Train" by Geneviève Toupin.  
> I have no idea at all how the Channel Tunnel works, so forgive me if I've made any mistakes.  
> This fic is a translation of a fic I initially wrote in French, entitled "Prochain Train".

_I’m going to take the next train…_

 

She wanted to leave. She wanted to get out of this damned city, out of her useless old life, and escape from all that she’d done and built for herself. There was no more choice in the matter.

Her university was a place of extreme discomfort, where she was obliged to face people she hated, people who didn’t know how to talk to her without invoking her past. She wished she could erase all that she showed to the world and become transparent, intangible smoke, for her body betrayed her no matter where she went or what she did. Out of all her classmates, out of all the people on the street, nobody saw her in the way that she wanted, but she could never bring herself to contradict them, because if she made a mistake, she’d embarrass herself. And she’d be yet more socially isolated if that happened – no-one would want to talk to her.

But every night, she had to undress in the dark so as not to notice her own body; every morning, she took her shower with her eyes closed; during every class, when someone would say her name (which wasn’t her name), she would feel a spasm in her stomach.

She had gotten used to a painful existence, without having realised it, but it had become too much and she had finally taken notice.

She therefore decided to leave as soon as possible. She only needed an opportunity, an opening, and she would seize it.

 

_Even if it leads to nothing…_

 

She had bought tickets and boarded an express train heading for London as soon as her final exams had finished, using the money that her parents had given her. She chose a seat next to the window and got a book out of her travel bag. The abyss of the Chunnel awaited her.

It was already afternoon, and the dining car would only start taking reservations at seven o’clock. But she was relatively hungry, even though she was tired. It had to be the effect of an overly-active metabolism – and perhaps, too, the testosterone which filled her veins; endocrinology hadn’t become her field of study, which she was now somewhat regretting. In any case, she had to wait.

From the seat behind hers came a coughing sound. She turned around and saw a young woman, short and wearing black leather, who appeared to be asleep – but perhaps she was only resting her eyes a bit. The woman had disorderly brown hair, and her black jacket was liberally sprinkled with studs – which reminded her of a sea urchin, ready to defend itself. By her side there was a large swollen backpack, practically bursting with something, and her combat boots (which she’d just noticed) were dirty and battered.

She watched the woman for a few minutes, for she’d never really seen anyone like her before. What was she doing here? Why had she chosen to travel by train? And why was she going to England? She tried to conjecture what the leather-clad woman was. But upon reflection, she couldn’t determine at all why she herself was going to England. She knew nobody there, she wouldn’t be able to find work there, and even though she spoke relatively good English, she’d never been there before and so didn’t know how to live there. She had no plan to speak of.

But she desperately needed to get out of her own life. To hell with her parents’ wishes, to hell with their preconceptions – they never saw her as a real woman anyway.

And then a crazy idea came to her. She could wait until this sleeping woman woke up and ask her… something? She didn’t know what to say to her. She was a perfect stranger, but maybe she would have an answer to the deep questions that had swallowed her heart and poisoned her soul.

 

_The wind between my hands…_

 

Her name was Sarah, and she came from Brixton, in England. The two young women were more or less the same age; the English woman was returning to her mother country after having come to France on “business” (which was probably something illegal, but she wasn’t going to ask too many questions when Sarah was already the first person in a long time to be truly friendly to her). Sarah appeared to be physically and emotionally exhausted, but she was awake enough to maintain her side of the conversation, her brown eyes fixed on the French woman’s face.

When Sarah asked what her name was, she was already nervous, and she stayed silent for a brief moment during which she thought about what to say.

“Delphine,” she said finally, still very conscious of her too-low voice.

Sarah hesitated, then nodded and repeated, “Delphine… it’s a pretty name.”

“Yours too,” replied Delphine automatically; she was taken aback that Sarah hadn’t reacted negatively.

“It’s not pretty, it’s boring.”

“No, it is pretty. I wish that I’d chosen a name…” Shit. Damn it. She’d just made a big mistake, and she hoped that Sarah hadn’t noticed it, but… “I mean, I wish that my name were as pretty as…”

Sarah had evidently noticed the screw-up, because she’d raised her eyebrows, but she shook her head and said, “It’s no big deal. It doesn’t mean anything. I already knew, and it’s not a problem.”

Delphine couldn’t believe it. “Really?”

Sarah made a face that looked almost like a catlike smile, and replied, “Yeah, really. I don’t give a shit. In any case, you’re the first person I’ve talked to who doesn’t want to arrest me. You’re… you’re nice, I guess.”

Delphine blushed and tried to stop herself from smiling back.

Sarah seemed to want to say more on the subject, but she bit her tongue and it was only after a small hesitation that she continued. “So, where are you headed?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Somewhere in London, probably. I’m taking this train in order to… escape, somehow.”

“Me too,” said the English woman, nearly silently. “I’ve got too much annoying shit in my life anyway.”

Delphine could only agree with that.

 

_And my heart finally open…_

 

The desire to escape wasn’t the only thing that the two women had in common. As the conversation progressed, Delphine learned that Sarah had had, like her, an unsettled childhood and a disdain for the norms of society in general. Both of them had a younger brother – in Sarah’s case, an adoptive brother – who got along better with their parents than they themselves did.

But it was above all the feeling of being lost that Delphine detected in Sarah, something that had existed for a very long time inside Delphine herself. The two of them found in each other a refuge in a world that would have preferred not to acknowledge their existence. Delphine felt like a lone swimmer in the ocean who had found a boat, and it seemed that Sarah felt something similar, even though it was hard to precisely determine what the English woman thought.

Sarah revealed her feelings, her thoughts, and her history little by little – because Delphine was trying to open her up by means of conversation, to break her hard exterior, little by little. But Sarah was doing the exact same to Delphine, who eventually recognised the tactic and did nothing to stop it.

Hours passed, and the sound of the tunnel became different. The train had finally come out the other side of the Chunnel, and would approach the end station soon. Delphine learned that Sarah had already planned to transfer to another train that would leave for London; when she thought about it, Delphine surprised herself when she decided to accompany Sarah on that train. In her head, there was no question of it. She wanted desperately to spend more time with Sarah – she _needed_ it.

When she told the other woman about her idea, Sarah raised her eyebrows, but responded, “Why not? I dunno where I’m going to end up, but if you want, you can stay with me.”

Having heard this, Delphine felt happy for the first time in a long while. She’d gotten very lucky – and all just because she’d chosen to take the train.


End file.
